


Quiet

by scribblywobblytimeylimey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Backrubs, Bisexual Dean, Cas insisted on the hot chocolate so don't blame me., Dean in Denial, First Everything, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Massage, Post-Season/Series 10 Finale, Quiet Sex, Top Dean, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wall Sex, agree, and not, but not both, clumsy, it's easier this way, it's not gay if you don't think about it, let it happen, or the will of god, the bunker, when they, you can fight free will, you can't stop this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:52:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4226061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblywobblytimeylimey/pseuds/scribblywobblytimeylimey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re quiet when it happens, because that’s the only way it can happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so exhausted

“What if you had three wishes?” Cas said suddenly. “What would they be?”

They were in the bunker, where Cas had whisked them away before the darkness engulfed Dean’s baby. It was three in the morning, and the air seemed to drone jarringly around them with that elusive, ephemeral quality of those innocent sounds which awaken you from deep slumber.

They’d tried for hours to think of a plan of action. There just weren’t textbooks on this sort of thing. In the end, all there was to do was wait; Sam had sloped off to bed, citing the number of times they’d all nearly died today, as if he needed the excuse.

“A bit of goddamn piece and quiet,” Dean joked. He took a swig of his hot chocolate, and may as well have been drinking tepid tap water for all the good it did him.

Cas tilted his head, waiting, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know, man. If you’d asked me a day ago I’d have said I’d wish the goddamn Mark off my arm, but it’s not there now, and where are we? Damn wishes always backfire.”

Cas nodded sagely, but his eyes were glassy and unfocused. “What about now?” Dean had never heard him sound so tired.

He rolled his shoulders. “Yeah, well, at the risk of another repeat, I think I’d wish this whole Darkness bull away. Not sure it could get much worse than this anyway.”

Cas hummed in agreement. “Nothing we can’t handle.” God, if he didn’t sound _hollow._ He looked up at Dean. “And your second wish? 

Dean made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “What, you mean after cleaning up my own mess? Probably the chance to feel good again. Beach holiday. A six hour sleep. Man, can you imagine that? Uninterrupted.”

Cas’ eyes narrowed in thought. “You know,” he pointed out, “The genie could kill everyone and send them straight up to heaven. Your choice of wording does leave you open to loopholes.”

Dean chuckled. “Man,” he said, “That’s no unfortunate twist of fate. That’s a goddamn dream come true right there, Cas.”

The angel blinked so slowly, Dean almost thought he was falling asleep. “Do you think if you curse enough, God will appear?" 

Dean smirked. “Worth a try, isn’t it? Goddamnit. God…damn. Goddamn.”

“Keep going,” Cas encouraged him. “I think it’s working.”

Dean bit off a tired laugh, and Cas grinned at his knees, the humanity inside him peeking through. 

Then Cas stood up, walked across the room. Dean didn’t even move his eyes to follow him. A few moments later he was behind him, and his hands were on Dean’s shoulders.

“Uh.”  Dean blinked. “Can I help you?”

Cas didn’t reply – he just started massaging Dean’s shoulders, firmly and thoroughly.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to roll him off. “Uh, yeah. Might have mentioned I don’t bat for that team, buddy,” he joked weakly. 

Cas just kept going. “This has nothing to do with your sexuality.” He sounded weary.

“Yeah?” Dean said. “Tell that to Sammy if he walks through the door.” His stomach was having a very strong reaction to this. He couldn’t tell if it was shock, or nerves, or revulsion, or what.

“Sam is asleep. In contrast to your hyper-vigilance over others’ perceptions.”

“Yeah. Well.”

“This is supposed to be relaxing,” Cas said. “Isn’t it? There’s no point if it just makes you more anxious.”

“Yeah,” Dean repeated, “Well.”

It _did_ feel good.

It felt like the tentative beginnings of relief. It felt like the first flakes of caked blood to decorate the bottom of the shower.

He hadn’t realized how stiff his back was, how sore and wrong every muscle felt. It was worth pretending this wasn’t happening, or that it wasn’t weird, for just a minute or two longer.

Cas karate chopped at the join of his neck and shoulders and oh _God_ , could he feel the relief. It was so good. A few hours of this all over and he might be able to lie down to sleep without pain.

This was enough, though. “Thanks, man. Really.” He made to get up.

Cas just kept on going, though, working just right at a knot.

Dean’s stomach had decided it liked it, and Dean’s brain made the executive decision that it was too tired to care.

Dean hissed and jolted as a knuckle pressed too hard, then gasped as the side of Cas’ thumb smoothed over it firmly, and covered the awkwardness by quickly asking “When’d you find the time to take classes in this?”

Cas’ only reply was a skid of fingertip pressed over the worst of it. Dean’s mouth jumped to bite his lip, but a sound still escaped and his cheeks colored.

“Okay. I think we’re just about done here.”

This time, Cas let him stand up. Dean turned to face him, though he had no idea what he was about to say. Probably murmur a “thanks” and bolt. Yeah, that sounded good.

Cas stepped into his personal space inelegantly, unangelically.

Dean held up his hands too late. “I-“

Yeah, okay, so now Cas was kissing him.

Dean jerked back—

\--And Cas moved right back in again, cupping one hand loosely at the back of his neck.

Okay, right, he was being kissed. So. His brain hadn’t fully caught up with that, clearly. But it was happening. Right? Dean opened his eyes, unaware he had closed them. Yeah. Okay. He needed to stop this.

He pushed lightly on Cas’ chest, breaking loose, and tried to think of a way to let him down gently, but he ran out of time; Cas licked his lips and brought them back to Dean’s, hot breath hitting his mouth.

Dean turned his head aside, breaking the kiss. “I – I’m not…”

Cas ignored him, leading their mouths back together.

Dean clearly wasn’t processing this properly, because he tried to make his excuses again, but some wires crossed and he might have ended up kissing back.

The next time his mouth was free of chaste kisses, Dean said “I…” again, even quieter than before. _I…what? Can’t? I’m not? I don’t want to? I’m sorry?_

Cas just made a low sound and opened his lips around Dean’s.

_This was happening. Was this really happening?_

Cas’ hands on his neck, Cas’ warm breath on his jaw, Cas’…Cas, firm, straightforward, certain in every way Dean wasn’t. Cas’ tongue swiping once at his lower lip with ghostly pressure. A rogue shiver down Dean’s spine. Dean’s lips parting in something like shock.

Cas deepening the kiss and Dean tumbling down the rabbit hole, his warm form holding Dean close and his tongue moving just barely and quietly like a whispered secret, Dean still not kissing but being kissed, not swimming against the current but not looking back to see where it led.

Cas’ presence around him like warm ocean waves pulsing, unsteadying him, the weight and the force and the texture enveloping his whole body, and the scent everywhere at once, pure and clean like sea air, and Dean’s system drawing in breaths by instinct.

Cas holding him.

Cas –

Cas’ tongue…

Dean’s hands in Cas’ hair. To pull him back. To guide him. To hold, hold, hold…

Cas against the wall. Cas slipping out of his trench coat with a sound like the flap of departing wings. Dean’s eyes opening wide by reflex. Cas’ eyes still closed, but knowing. Squeezing Dean’s back. Cas’ breath heavy and deep, undeniably masculine and restrained.

Hands all over, but only skating, disbelieving.

Cas’ thigh slipping between Dean’s and meeting with rock-hard readiness for sensation.

Dean’s back stiffening with a rigid wave of _I can’t_ and _I don’t_ and every other contraction of _not_ that his brain could supply in a split second, and there are lots of them, he’s had practice.

Cas rolling his hips and Dean’s breath huffing out at the sharp keening, the nonverbal _yes_ but still _more_ that his body got out before his mind had a say. Dean’s hands on Cas’ hips, pulling him close, rocking, their bodies beginning to oscillate at a natural rhythm that was nothing but physics.

Cas moaning.

Dean’s hand slapping the wall and his hips snapping. Dean leaning into Cas, his own loud breathing hypnotic. Dean breathing in the heat of the pulse in Cas’ neck.

Cas’ hands winding down around the small of Dean’s back and onto his ass, stroking, gripping, massaging, encouraging.

Dean’s hips getting ahead of themselves. Dean’s whole body suddenly slick inside his clothes. 

Teeth on bare neck and fingernails on ass cheeks, gonna leave a mark through the clothes, _oh god there._

Practically shoving him through the wall and palming at him, all hard lines and weak knees and delicious, deep, dizzying groans.

Shirts gone and Cas’ hands at his belt buckle and Dean’s hands on Cas’ face, holding him close, kissing.

Cas’ hand around him and the flush flooding down Dean’s shoulders, gasps and moans and kisses and hands switching places, Dean’s hands down there at another man’s flies, oh god, “I don’t wanna die, I don’t want to die, Cas-“

Kisses that felt eternal but too brief, reassurance vascillating, and Cas’ decisive hands. 

No clothes.

Naked.

Too naked to think about it.

Skin too caked with the apocalypse and the scent of it for mouths to go exploring but no time for them to anyway. Mouths still on mouths. Skin that shouldn’t come alight catching fire all the same when it catches skin that should. Leg itching, leg hitched. Back on wall, hand on leg, halfway there. Stroking, back to front. Hand on hand, coating Dean’s fingers with something sweet and angelic and wet and necessary. His fingers.

His finger. Just the pad. Eyes rolling, body jumping, circles then eights like a Ouija board, letting the devil come out of him, curse like he’s possessed, then in, hard and aching and close and jealous of his own hand.

Straighten. _Stiffen._ Curve. _Gasp._ Out. _Moan._ Moan. _“Oh god doitagain, Dean…”_

More. More hard, more fast, more. More. Needing to be the one to touch you there. Lined up, eyes on fire, stretch. Too good to move.

The oscillations of choking breaths amplifying. Moving. Moving, moving, moving, fuck, hit it, hit it there, make him restart. Right there, so good Dean can feel it himself. There’s blood on his back but it’s his own. No screams, just gasps on a scale he’s never heard before.

And a groan that forms inside them where they join.

And the sound of bodies.

And the yawning pleasure, brighter, brighter, blood forming bullets inside him there.

“Fuck…”

_Say it._

_Say my name again._

Still inaudible, he can hear it.

“Fuck. Gonna. Gonna-“

A moan escaping as Cas nods, _yes,_ and then he’s tight, tight, tightening around him there and there and there and _there-_

Welded by white heat like metal, grips that can never be released, bodies spilling over chanting _you, you, you, you_

Your hair, your chest, your face, your neck, inside you

Trying to breathe through the fire

 _You, you, you…you…yes…yes…you…yes…yes._  

The greatest miracle he’s ever known, the whole world and everything inside it, everything inside him and out, knowing pleasure relief release everything is alright going to be alright it’s all going to

_Yes._

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
